This is a close analogue to a part of 1984-- the progress they are trying to make towards "duckspeak", or speaking without using the brain at all-- making all of your speech come from the larynx and no higher.
This article basically praises GWB for eschewing thinking in favor of "blink"-ing, or making gut decisions without thinking them through.


Reprinted from Time Magazine
Sunday, Feb. 20, 2005

The Blink Presidency
Bush's supporters would argue that his instincts seem to be paying off


It should come as no great revelation that George W. Bush is a wantonly decisive President. He decides Ariel Sharon is good and Yasser Arafat is evil, even though seasoned diplomats tell him it is not wise to make such sweeping judgments. He decides that Social Security needs to be transformed and that private investment accounts are the way to do it, even though the experts say there is no great crisis and his way won't solve anything. He decides to invade Iraq, with minimal contingency planning. He decides to cut taxes drastically and then to spend an outlandish sum on a Medicare prescription-drug benefit. His presidency has been exhilarating and nerve-racking, imprudent and visionary—and now we learn that it is another thing as well: it is a prime example of the latest fad.

Bush is the ultimate "Blink" President, to use author Malcolm Gladwell's catchy term, and recent title, for instantaneous, subconscious decision making. The slogan on Gladwell's book jacket—"Don't Think—Blink!"—is a perfect mantra for an attention- deficit-disordered society, and an apt description of the electric jolt Bush has brought to politics and policy. It certainly was the subtext of the 2004 presidential campaign: Kerry's thinking seemed tortured, paralytic; Bush's blinking seemed strong and decisive.

But there are problems. "We don't know where our first impressions come from or precisely what they mean, so we don't always understand their fragility," writes Gladwell, who is way too smart to be a cheerleader for the immediate. Gladwell argues that blinking is best when it is reinforced by a lifetime of study and expertise. Bush's blinks come in two basic varieties: judgments about people and about broad policy. Bush may be a master at judging people—though one wonders what he saw in Vladimir Putin's soul—but he hasn't spent much time learning the intricacies of getting a bill through Congress or thinking about how the pieces of the puzzle might fit together in the Middle East after the invasion of Iraq. There is rarely any thought of how a blink will be carried out, or the contradictory impact that his blinks might have on one another. David Kuo, a former deputy director of the President's Office of Faith- Based and Community Initiatives, argued last week on the Beliefnet website that the President had blinked at the well-publicized faith-based antipoverty initiative and then forgotten it. Kuo, who is a friend of mine and truly believes in the President's commitment to the policy, remains mystified by the disconnect between passion and action. Blinks are ephemeral; policy is distressingly concrete.

And yet, for the moment, Bush's instincts—his supporters would argue these are bedrock values—seem to be paying off. The President's attention span may be haphazard, but the immediate satisfactions are difficult to dispute. Saddam Hussein? Evildoer. Take him out. But wait, no WMD? No post-invasion planning? Deaths and chaos? Awful, but ... Freedom! Look at those Shi'ites vote! And now, after all that rapid-eye movement, who can say the Shi'ites and the Kurds won't create a government with a loyal Shi'ite-Kurd security force? And who can say the Sunni rebels won't—with some creative dealmaking—eventually acquiesce? The foreign-policy priesthood may be appalled by all the unexpected consequences, but there has been stunned silence in the non-neocon think tanks since the Iraqi elections.

In Washington last week I attended another priestly ritual: the annual conference of the Committee for a Responsible Federal Budget.

The room was packed with heavy-duty economic thinkers, not a blinker in the bunch. And the conversation was essentially the same as it has been for the past 20 years: the sky is falling; the budget and trade deficits can't be sustained. But now, the stakes have been raised by the cascade of contradictory Bush blinks—sharp tax cuts, exploding Medicare benefits, the Social Security hand grenade—plus the apparent disappearance of the Republican Party's traditional fiscal restraint. "The conventional wisdom is too cheerful," joked Maya Macguineas, the group's president, surveying the prevailing gloom. But when she asked the assembled wizards why these impending disasters weren't having a more immediate impact on the markets, there was a long silence followed by hemming and hawing. The contrast to Bush's intuitive certainty couldn't have been more stark.

This, then, is a moment of no small anguish for the traditional policy establishment, both liberal and conservative. The real division in George W. Bush's Washington is not so much between left and right as between those who act and those who contemplate. Logic would dictate that action without long-term planning is disastrous: that you can't borrow forever, that you can't barge into someone else's region and impose your views without negative consequences.

But expertise and deliberation have never seemed more stodgy, unappealing and unconvincing than they do right now.